


If Fire can Burn

by AnnaTheHank



Series: A/C/G ot3 [13]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Good ending tho, I'm so sorry, M/M, Multi, but also a lil fluff, but mosly angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 12:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20227852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaTheHank/pseuds/AnnaTheHank
Summary: Gabriel shows up to the bookstore sporting some might big hellfire burns.While he recovers, Crowley goes on a crusade to get revenge, and Aziraphale worries to no end what's going on in heaven.





	If Fire can Burn

**Author's Note:**

> I am so, so sorry. I promise it's got a good ending.  
I also promise that the next fic will be nothing but pure, wholesome, tooth-rotting fluff to make up for my sins

No one else had died and Gabriel considered that a win. There was still an unnecessary amount of battles going on down on Earth, and Heaven was mostly empty now as everyone went to counteract the forces of evil, but at least all of those fighting were still alive. They had held a memorial of sorts, for the others. Gabriel had been given a speech to make and had made it. But all the words in it had felt empty and meaningless. This war was empty and meaningless.

It didn’t happen often, but occasionally Gabriel got bored of his office and went to go for a walk around to stretch his legs. He’d never admit it, but he really missed coffee when he was up in Heaven. If he wasn’t so sure he’d get caught, he would sneak a cup up here and there. But he was an archangel and couldn’t be seen partaking in such Earthly delights.

“Gabriel,” Michael said, walking up to him.

“Michael. I thought you were down in Canada,” Gabriel said, tilting his head at them. 

“Oh, that’s done now,” Michael said. Gabriel thought it sounded an awful lot like they were implying that Canada, in general, was done. “We need to talk.”

“I rather think we do.” Gabriel folded his hands before him and turned to face them. 

“You’re not stupid, Gabriel,” Michael said.

“Thank you.”

“I think it’s about time you joined us,” Michael said. “With your help we could have this whole war business settled by the end of the week.”

“But, Michael, there is no war.”

Michael smiled, their face tight. “There could be. We don’t need the apocalypse to prove we’re better than the demons.”

“But you can’t have a war without...well, without war.” Gabriel smiled, more to himself than to Michael.

Michael blinked at him. “We figured it was possible,” they said. “All things considered.”

Gabriel knew he would regret asking it. “What all things considered?”

“You said that what Aziraphale did was part of Her plan, not the Great Plan,” Michael said. Gabriel nodded, trying to figure out where they were going with this. “So, whatever we do is simply part of Her plan.”

Michael raised their eyebrows and Gabriel really couldn’t argue against that. Whatever happens is simply part of God’s plan, as he had come to see things (as he had come to tell himself to ease his mind over time spent with Aziraphale and Crowley). Ergo, if the angels and demons decided to just wage war without the actual apocalypse, then that had to be part of the plan as well.

“Well,” Gabriel said, shifting his stance. “Perhaps, then, it is also part of Her plan for someone to stop you.”

Michael’s face fell a bit as they sighed. “I’m so sorry you feel that way.”

Gabriel squinted at them.

“Not as sorry as we are.” 

Gabriel spun around, eyes open in 90% shock and 10% fear. There were demons in Heaven.

-

“Crowley, dear,” Aziraphale said, handing a small stack of books to him. “Would you put these away for me?” 

“What?” Crowley asked, taking the books from him. “Do I look like I work for you?” 

If there hadn’t been customers in the shop, Aziraphale might have miracled a little apron on Crowley that said ‘A.Z. Fell & Co.” on it, but he thought better of it, just smiling at him instead. “Thank you, dear.”

Crowley rolled his eyes and went to put the books back where they belonged after Aziraphale had successfully chased off whoever was trying to buy them. The woman standing at the shelf glanced at him and he started to hiss a bit. She swallowed and promptly left the store. He caught the little smile Aziraphale gave him.

Crowley put the rest of the books away and walked around, looking at the other customers, coming up with new and exciting ways to get them out of the shop. He used to stay away when the shop was open because it was dreadfully boring, but he had turned it into a sort of game. And, as an added bonus, Aziraphale had discovered that making out with one’s boyfriend in the shop tended to stop people from asking him questions. Crowley may have invented a fake customer or two whenever he was looking for a smooch.

Something else drove all the customers away before Crowley had the chance to think of anything new. A large bolt of lightning struck through the center of the room, not destroying the ceiling, but leaving a large, slightly moving pile of purple feathers on the floor. Shelves fell over and books flopped to the floor. Whatever humans remained scampered. 

“Gabriel?” Aziraphale said, rushing forward. Crowley stayed away, circling the area, and watching the rest of the shop and the streets outside.

The wings lifted, revealing Gabriel kneeling beneath them. There were burn marks that started at his right hip, traveling up over his stomach and chest, across his upper arm and halfway down his left wing. His eyes met Aziraphale, a dull, grey color. They closed and he collapsed, his body crumbling to the floor.

“Help me get him upstairs,” Aziraphale said. 

He crouched down, grabbing Gabriel’s good arm and swinging it up over his shoulders, pulling Gabriel up. Crowley rushed over, grabbing Gabriel’s other arm, eyes wandering over the path of the burns.

They dragged his body upstairs, Gabriel’s wings pushing more things over in both the bookshop and the apartment. They laid him down on the bed and took stock of the situation.

“Those are hellfire burns,” Crowley said. Aziraphale nodded slowly. “He came from Heaven.”

Aziraphale bit his lip and looked out the window. It didn’t seem like anything was happening. “He’ll be safe here, now,” he whispered.

Crowley growled and stormed out of the room. Aziraphale looked between Gabriel and Crowley and then chased after him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, grabbing Crowley’s arm before he could get to the steps.

“I’m going to go find whoever did this,” Crowley said through a glare.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Aziraphale said. “We have no idea what’s going on. We are perfectly safe inside the bookshop and going out now would be complete suicide.”

“I’m not just going to stand around and wait for them to show up.” He pulled his arm free. “I’m going to go find those bastards and show them exactly who they just messed with.” He turned and stomped down the steps.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale called out. He desperately wanted to chase after him. But someone had to stay and take care of Gabriel. He gave a reserved sigh and returned to the room.

Gabriel was still on the bed, his chest rising and falling slowly, his eyes still closed. Aziraphale nodded. He had to get a grip, and get to work. He went to the kitchen and got a bowl of water. He waved his hands over it, closing his eyes as he blessed it. Then he snapped his fingers and turned the holy water into a sort of ointment.

He miracled Gabriel’s shirt away. He knew how much Gabriel liked his clothes but there wasn’t much to be done with it in that state. He was sure Gabriel would forgive him that. Aziraphale sat on the edge of the bed, bowl in his lap, and looked at Gabriel’s wounds. They weren’t terribly deep, but they were wide. Had Gabriel been anything other than an Archangel, Aziraphale was certain he wouldn’t have survived. Aziraphale watched the slow rise and fall of Gabriel’s chest, each movement agitating the edges of the burns. 

Aziraphale pushed the very knowing fear that Gabriel could still die, could still not survive recovery from such wounds. He wouldn’t let that happen. He dipped a cloth in the ointment and started to spread it across the burns. Gabriel’s body twitched, but the redness around the edges seemed to go down a considerable amount. 

Aziraphale finished spreading the ointment and placed the bowl to the side. He crawled into the bed next to Gabriel, cradling his head against his chest. “It’s going to be alright,” he whispered, brushing the hair from Gabriel’s face. “Just, please, be okay. Please.”

-

Three days passed. Aziraphale spent his time worrying. He tried to distract himself by cleaning up Gabriel’s wings (the parts that hadn’t been burned anyway) but his mind always drifted away. He cycled through his fears. Who had attacked Gabriel? What had happened in Heaven? Were the others okay? Would Gabriel be okay? And the one that terrorized him the most: Was Crowley okay?

Aziraphale sighed, setting the brush down on the bed beside him. Gabriel’s wings were practically perfect, except for the burned out portions on the left. It was too soon to apply another round of holy ointment, so Aziraphale settled for picking up his phone again.

As expected, Crowley didn’t answer. 

“Hello, dear,” Aziraphale said, swallowing back his panic. “I do hope things are going well for you. No, ah, no changes over here, unfortunately.” He took a deep sigh, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t start crying. His jaw quivered when he spoke again. “I know you’re probably awfully busy. But please call me back.” He stood there with the phone to his ear, a list of unsaid words hanging in the air (I’m worried about you, please come home, I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt, please, I don’t want to lose you both). He cleared his throat and hung up. 

He stood by the phone, trying to force the worry away. He couldn't get anything done going on like this. He had tried to read but he kept getting distracted. He went out to the shop and figured he could at least clean up a bit there. He grabbed a few books off the floor and started putting them back on the shelves, tutting at the condition of some of them. 

There was a knock on the door. Aziraphale looked at it. He thought about just ignoring it, as he was in no mood to deal with humans today. He blinked. What if…

Aziraphale walked over to the door. He had pulled all the shades on the windows so he lifted the edge of one with a finger, peeking out into the street. Uriel was standing at his door, back straight, face sullen. Aziraphale pulled back, every nerve in his body replacing worry with immediate fear.

“Let me in, Aziraphale,” Uriel said. 

Aziraphale didn’t trust himself to talk. He took another few steps away from the door. He knew, objectively, that their protections would keep him and Gabriel safe. But he couldn’t stop seeing the door flying open and an army of angels and demons pouring in to attack.

“Please, Aziraphale,” a second voice said. Phanuel’s voice. “It’s rather important!”

“Go away,” Aziraphale said, his voice shaking. “I’m not letting anyone in.”

“We know he’s with you,” Uriel said. 

Aziraphale didn’t even wait for more. He ran back upstairs, already imagining the windows shattered on the floor and Gabriel missing if not dead. 

Everything was still intact. No glass on the floor, no flame marks on the walls. And Gabriel was still on the bed, wrapped up in one too many blankets and resting on much too fluffled pillows. Aziraphale let out a breath of relief and moved to the windows. He peeked out, prepared to look down at the door. Uriel was floating right outside the window. Aziraphale snapped back.

“Let us in, Aziraphale,” they said, teeth clenched. “We can help.”

“It’s more like we need help,” Phanuel said. 

“Shut-up,” Uriel said.

Aziraphale closed his eyes. They couldn’t even get their stories straight. How could they ever expect to trick him into letting them in.

“You might as well give up,” Aziraphale said. He shook his head. “I’m not going to let you in.”

“What about Crowley?” Phanuel asked.

Aziraphale let his mouth hang open. He knew it. They had him. He had gone off alone like and idiot and now he was in Heaven and in danger. Or was he? Could they simply be lying to him? Trying to get him to trust them so they could turn on him.

Aziraphale was about to make his decision when he heard a rustling. He looked over his shoulder. Gabriel was moving, his body shifting under the blankets, his voice groaning a bit with each effort. 

“No, no,” Aziraphale said, rushing over to him. “Please, don’t move, you’ll hurt yourself.”

He placed his hands on Gabriel’s body, pushing them back down. Gabriel didn’t fight it. He opened his eyes and looked at Aziraphale. They were still awfully grey.

“Aziraphale,” Gabriel said, his voice rough. “You have to go.” His eyes closed and his breathing became heavy.

“Please, don’t talk,” Aziraphale said, fixing the blankets around him. “Just rest.”

“The demons,” Gabriel said. Aziraphale shushed him and brushed the hair off his face, which was slick with sweat. “They turned on them.”

“It’s alright,” Aziraphale said, keeping his voice low and soft. “Just save your energy. It’s alright.”

Gabriel opened his mouth again but his eyes closed and his head fell back, his breath stabilizing. Aziraphale sighed and readjusted the blankets and pillows. He stood up, straightening his coat, and turned to the window. He pulled back the curtain. Phanuel was waiting just outside. They smiled at him.

-

Crowley struggled against the binds on the chair. He was getting pretty tired of being tied up by those damn chains. He growled. How long did they really intend to do this? Was keeping him locked up in a dark room with nothing to do going to accomplish something? He figured, it was getting him pretty bored but he wasn’t about to go giving out information or anything because of it.

Why did they even kidnap him? It’s not like he knew anything, especially not nowadays. The only option he could see was using him to get to Aziraphale or Gabriel. But he refused to believe that was the reason, mainly because he knew it would work and if he was going to be stuck in this room alone any longer it wasn’t going to be with his guilty thoughts.

A door to his right opened and the room flooded with light. Crowley squinted, the light hurting his eyes a bit.

“Crowley, Crowley, Crowley,” the familiar voice of Hastur said. 

Crowley sneered. 

“What’s the matter?” Dagon asked, slipping into view. “Snake got your tongue?”

Crowley glared at them. He wouldn’t dignify that with a response. 

“Well, no matter.” Dagon walked around him, hand trailing over the back of the chair. “We have plans for you and, really, the less you talk the better.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “What are you doing with me?” he asked. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly playing the game anymore.”

“No,” Dagon said. “But you did once. And you never did get your proper…” they spun around pressing their face in Crowley’s space, “punishment.”

Crowley wrinkled his nose. He had never quite been this close to Dagon before. It wasn’t a pleasant experience.

“See, we finally found a very particular form of punishment, fitted just for you.”

“Gee, can’t wait to see that.”

“Hastur, if you would.”

Crowley looked over at him. Hastur was holding Crowley’s phone and he raised an eyebrow at it. Hastur smiled at him and pressed a button. Aziraphale’s voice filled the room.

“Hello, dear,” he said, sounding perfectly normal. “Hope everything is okay, you’re probably busy stalking someone, I’m sure. Do call back when you get the chance.”

Crowley shook his head. How was this supposed to punish him?

The phone clicked over. 

“Crowley, just, ah, just thought I’d catch you up on things here.” Aziraphale cleared his throat. “No news actually, is the news. Better than bad news, yes? I suppose.”

Hastur let the voicemails continue to play, each one getting more and more desperate, Aziraphale’s voice filled with the worry he wouldn’t let his words betray. Crowley bit back a sob. He had only heard Aziraphale’s voice like that once, back when the world was ending, back when he was terrified. Back when he needed Crowley. 

But this time he wasn’t there for him. This time...no, this time he had failed. 

Crowley looked to them with the scowliest glare he could muster. 

“Working already, is it?” Dagon asked, smirk on their face.

“I am going to get out of these chains,” Crowley growled. “And when I do I’m going to do more than just destroy you.”

“I do love your empty threats,” Dagon said, taking a big, triumphant breath. “Enjoy.”

Hastur set the phone down on the floor and smiled at him again. “Have fun.”

The two left, the lights going off, only the soft glow of his phone illuminating the room. Crowley growled. He closed his eyes and tried to shut out the voice in the room but he couldn’t ignore it. He tired to miracle the phone dead but it wouldn’t work. In a last ditch effort he stuck his leg out, trying to reach over and crush the phone beneath his foot. 

He couldn’t reach.

Crowley hung his head, listening to the words Aziraphale had left for him. Words that asked him to come home, to help him, to save him. Words that Crowley couldn’t comply with. Words that asked something of him he couldn’t give. He wanted to give Aziraphale the world and right now all he was giving him was Hell. Seemed fitting for a demon, he figured. 

But Aziraphale deserved better than that. 

‘Oh, well,’ Crowley thought, letting his body slip into the chair. ‘He has Gabriel now. He’s an angel. He can give him more than I ever could. And Aziraphale deserves that.’

Something, somewhere, told him, ‘and you deserve this.’ And something, somewhere, agreed with it. 

-

“Here,” Aziraphale said, pulling the device off the shelf. “This should do the trick.”

Phanuel looked back at him from the doorway, then back to the hall outside. 

“Is that…” Uriel said, pointing to it.

Aziraphale held it carefully in his hands, blowing some of the dust off. “A holy bomb, yes.”

“Weren’t they discontinued?” Phanuel asked.

“They were,” Uriel said, fixing their tie. “Why do you have one?”

Aziraphale cleared his throat. He knew he really couldn't get into more trouble with heaven but he didn’t want to have to go into the whole explanation of that time he was supposed to an entire tribe with it but had ‘lost’ it instead. “It’s not important,” he said.

He took off the top and studied the mechanics, trying to remember how to start it. “Now, if we just set this off in the main meeting room, it should spread far enough to reach all of them. It won’t be powerful enough to destroy them, but it should discorporate them and get them out.”

Uriel reached for the bomb.

“What about Crowley?” Phanuel asked.

Aziraphale held the bomb back. “What about Crowley?”

“They have him,” Phanuel said. “Here. Won’t it hurt him too?”

“We don’t have time for this,” Uriel said. “The longer they’re up here the more we lose. And if we lose, humanity loses.”

Aziraphale looked between them and swallowed. “Where is he?”

“In one of the offices,” Phanuel said. “Not sure which, I didn’t really hear it.”

Aziraphale nodded. He knew exactly where Crowley was. He walked over, holding the bomb out to Phanuel. “Give me ten minutes,” he said. “Please.”

Phanuel took the bomb from him, wide eyes scanning his face. They nodded. “Of course.”

“Thank you.”

Aziraphale left the bomb in their care and raced out of the room.

“Aziraphale, wait!”

Aziraphale turned, watching Uriel run up to him. “Here,” they reached behind their back and pulled out a flaming sword. “You might need this.”

Aziraphale stared at them, not even aware he was reaching out to grab the weapon. He certainly hadn’t expected that.

“Well? Go on! You’ve only got nine minutes!”

-

Crowley wondered if he could bang his head against the chair hard enough to discorporate himself. He figured, being bodiless in hell was probably better than being up here listening to this over and over again. He swung his head back experimentally but couldn't seem to really hit the edge enough. Oh well, an eternity of this it was.

Crowley opened his eyes when he heard a scream from outside. Then there was another. And another. Each getting closer and closer to the door until it was thrown open. The lights flashed on and Crowley had to blink a few times before he could recognize the figure that was running towards him.

“Oh, Crowley!” Aziraphale said. He dropped a flaming sword on the ground and dropped to his knees, hands working quick to undo the chains. “I was so worried.”

“Yeah,” Crowley said, fighting back tears. “I could tell.”

The chains fell away and Crowley jumped up, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale’s neck and holding him close. Aziraphale hugged him back and the phone suddenly seemed to stop working. 

“Aziraphale, I-” Crowley was cut off as Aziraphale lifted him up, his wings wrapping tight around him. He could hear a mist in the air followed by cries and then silence. He crowded into the embrace closer, the feel of Aziraphale’s wings protecting him better than any high.

“Was that a holy bomb?” Crowley asked as the wings unfurled and Aziraphale lowered him to the ground.

“I’m afraid so,” Aziraphale said. 

“Clever angel,” Crowley said, smiling despite the bile of pain and guilt in his stomach.

“Now, we’d better get out of here before-”

“Aziraphale!” Phanuel came rushing into the room.

“-that.”

“Everyone’s free! And the demons are all gone! C’mon! They want to talk to you.”

Phanuel grabbed Aziraphale’s arm and pulled him, and Crowley by proxy, down the hall. Both of them had been too shocked by their reunion to really think to pull away.

A small collection of angels was waiting out in the main room.

“Well, Aziraphale,” Uriel said. “Your plan worked.”

“All the demons are gone,” Phanuel said, standing beside them and smiling.

Sandalphon stepped forward. “Looks like you missed one,” he said, sneering as he looked at Crowley. 

Aziraphale shoved Crowley behind him, putting his wings up as a barrier. “He’s with me and you won’t hurt him.” 

Crowley grabbed the back of Aziraphale’s shirt, peeking over his shoulder. He wanted to help, but even he wasn’t dumb enough to stand in front of a room full of angels without any protection. 

“He shouldn’t be here,” another angel said. “They can’t be trusted.”

“I trust Crowley with my life,” Aziraphale said. ‘More than could be said for all of you,’ he thought.

“He’s a demon,” Sandalphon said. He took a step forward, finger pointing at him.

“He helped save us!” Phanuel said.

Sandalphon scoffed. “Sure. And I’m the queen of England.”

“That’s enough!”

The room went quiet, the sharp tap of heels on the floor approaching them. Everyone watched in silence as Michael approached them, fixing their hair as they went. They stopped before the group and looked at them all. “Any particular reason you’re all standing around here and not going back to work?”

The group started to disperse, everyone glancing warily at Michael and Aziraphale. Sandalphon opened his mouth to say something but Phanuel grabbed his arm and he shut it, following them away. After a few minutes only Michael, Aziraphale, and Crowley were left in the room.

“You gotta teach me that trick,” Crowley said, swallowing the lump in his throat as he emerged from Aziraphale’s protection.

“How is Gabriel?” Michael asked.

Aziraphale tried to get Crowley back behind him, but he had to settle for holding an arm before him. “What happened here?”

Michael looked down, fingers folding together. They took a deep breath. “We had planned a cooperation,” they said. “We invited the demons up to work out the parameters of…of a new war.” They looked back up at them.

“Let me guess,” Crowley said, “they attacked you and took over?”

Michael nodded. “They tried to kill me but…”

“Gabriel jumped in the way,” Aziraphale said. He couldn't decide on what he was feeling. He was angry, sad, and joyful all at once.

Crowley decided to be angry.

“So it was your fault!” He lunged at Michael but Aziraphale grabbed his arm, holding him back. 

Michael took a step back.

“Let me go, angel!” Crowley said. “I’m gonna rip their stupid head off!”

“It would be best if Gabriel came back,” Michael said. Crowley growled at them, his struggling winding down, knowing he couldn’t escape. “We can treat him.”

“Gabriel is staying with us,” Aziraphale said. “And he can decide what he wants to do when he’s recovered.”

Michael looked like they were going to say something, then they just nodded. 

“Come on, darling,” Aziraphale said, leading Crowley away.

“This isn’t over!” Crowley shouted over his shoulder.

-

“I thought you said he had woken up,” Crowley said as they returned to their room in the shop. Gabriel was just as Aziraphale had left him, still smuggled under pounds of blankets.

“He was. But it’s good he’s getting his rest.” Aziraphale sat down on the bed next to Gabriel, leaning against the headboard as he ran his fingers through Gabriel’s hair.

Crowley bit his lip. He waited for Aziraphale to be mad at him. He wanted Aziraphale to be mad at him. After all, he had practically run away, had gone off alone into danger, had made him worry, had made him have that voice. Aziraphale should be angry at him.

“I...I’m sorry,” Crowley said, no longer finding the energy to hold back his tears.

Aziraphale sat up, holding his arms out to him, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “My dear boy, whatever for?”

Crowley sniffed and slunk forward, reaching out and holding one of Aziraphale’s hands. “I shouldn’t have left. I...I made you worry.”

Aziraphale pulled him down and Crowley eagerly crawled into his lap, curling against his chest and resting his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder as he cried. 

Aziraphale smoothed down his hair, kissing the top of his head. “My dear, it’s alright.”

Crowley shook his head. “No. Gabriel was hurt and I just left. I didn’t help. I didn’t...I didn’t even think about how you would have felt.” He grabbed fistfuls of Aziraphale’s shirt. “I was just so angry.”

Aziraphale shushed him and tilted his head down, peppering Crowley’s face with kisses. He wiped the tears off his cheek and smiled at him. “It’s okay, my dear. Really. I was worried for you, of course I was. But had you not beaten me to it, I would have run off and done the same.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Just as I’m sure he would have done for us. Love makes people do crazy things.”

Crowley snuggled closer, looking over at Gabriel. “He’ll be okay, right?”

Aziraphale let one hand drift back to Gabriel’s hair, holding Crowley close with the other. “He’ll make a full recovery.”

“And you’re not just saying that?”

Aziraphale smiled at him. “I’m certain he will. He’s made it this long. Besides. He’s not really allowed to leave us, is he?”

Crowley managed a chuckle. “Nah. He’s stuck with us and we’re stuck with him.”

“And we wouldn’t have it any other way.”


End file.
